by Harish Gupta, National Editor, Lokmat Group

From Meme Maker to ‘Cockroach King’

The Meteoric Rise of Abhijeet Dipke from Pune to Boston

Harish Gupta

From an obscure meme-maker to the face of India’s latest online political storm, 30-year-old Abhijeet Dipke from Pune has suddenly become the internet’s newest disruptor.

The founder of the satirical “Cockroach Janta Party” (CJP) launched the digital outfit on May 16 after Chief Justice of India Surya Kant’s “cockroaches” remark about unemployed youth triggered outrage online. Though he later clarified his remarks, the damage was done.

What started as political satire exploded into a viral movement within hours. Today, the CJP boasts more than 19 million Instagram followers — reportedly overtaking every mainstream political party in India on social media. Before facing legal restrictions in India, its X account too had crossed 200,000 followers.

Dipke, a journalism graduate from Pune and currently a public relations student at Boston University, previously worked with the Aam Aadmi Party’s social media team and helped design meme-based campaigns during the 2020 Delhi elections.

Blending humour with anger over unemployment, paper leaks and political alienation, the CJP has struck a chord with India’s restless Gen Z, turning the humble cockroach into an unlikely symbol of resistance.

What he imagined as political satire has evolved into a strange but potent expression of Gen Z frustration. The CJP calls itself “the voice of the lazy and unemployed”, mixing dark humour with sharp political messaging on unemployment, inequality, media control and political alienation.

Critics dismiss it as choreographed digital theatre with opposition links. Yet supporters see something deeper: a generation exhausted by politics but desperate to be heard.

India may not be witnessing street revolutions like Sri Lanka or Bangladesh or Nepal, but simmering anxieties over jobs, rising costs and shrinking opportunities are unmistakable. The cockroach — resilient, unwanted and impossible to eliminate — has unexpectedly become the perfect symbol of that frustration.

In an era where politics increasingly resembles performance, India’s latest anti-establishment mascot suddenly feels oddly believable. What next? No one is sure. 

by Harish Gupta, National Editor, Lokmat Group

Fly on the wall

Harish Gupta

How to Make Rs 2  lakh cr. Bullet Train Project Viable!

The government’s flagship high-speed rail dream is inching forward, but a big question refuses to go away: how to make the bullet train financially viable. The ambitious Mumbai–Ahmedabad High-Speed Rail Corridor — India’s first attempt at a 320 kmph rail network — was once projected to cost about ₹90,000 crore. Today, estimates suggest the bill could touch nearly ₹2 lakh crore, turning what was envisioned as a technological leap into a serious financial puzzle.

Delays in land acquisition, the disruption caused by the COVID-19 pandemic, and rising construction costs have all pushed up the price of the 508-km corridor linking Mumbai and Ahmedabad. A major chunk of the original funding came from the Japan International Cooperation Agency, which agreed to finance about 81% of the initial project cost through a long-term soft loan. However, Tokyo has made it clear that it will not fund cost overruns, leaving New Delhi to absorb the ballooning expense.

That has triggered intense internal discussions within the government on how to make the project economically sustainable. Critics in the opposition have already begun branding it a potential “white elephant,” arguing that ticket prices may end up being beyond the reach of ordinary passengers. Supporters counter that the debate is premature. The corridor is expected to run about 35 trains daily and eventually carry nearly 1.6 crore passengers annually, dramatically cutting travel time between the two major commercial hubs.

The first operational stretch between Surat and Bilimora is expected to see a trial run in August 2027. But the stakes go beyond just one project. Prime Minister Narendra Modi has spoken of expanding bullet train corridors across the country. The immediate challenge before policymakers is clear: if India’s first bullet train struggles to prove viable, how will others ever take off?  A core group is breaking its head over how to make the Bullet train journey viable.

The wait gets longer

Nitin Nabin took over as BJP chief on January 20, 2026 and travelled extensively across more than a dozen states and campaigned actively during the Assembly polls as well. But his wait gets longer and longer to get his team even five months after he took over. It is also clear that he will continue in office until the next Lok Sabha elections as his three year term ends in January 2029.

One of the reasons for delay is largely because the new team has to reflect a balance between continuity and generational change. The leadership is considering introducing an informal upper age limit of 60 years bracket for organisational office-bearers to promote younger faces within the party structure. Among those likely to retain influential positions are Sunil Bansal and Vinod Tawde, both currently general secretaries. B. L. Santosh is also expected to continue for some more time as organisation general secretary.

The name of Ram Madhav was doing the rounds earlier. But no one is sure about his role. There are indications that party general secretaries such as Radha Mohan Das Agrawal, Tarun Chugh, Dushyant Gautam and Arun Singh may get other responsibilities. But all this has been in limbo and Nitin Nabin is keeping his fingers crossed.

Yogi Convoy Raises Eyebrows

Political circles were left intrigued over how Uttar Pradesh Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath appeared to sidestep Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s repeated emphasis on austerity and minimalism in public life. During his recent visit to Delhi, Yogi was seen moving with a cavalcade of more than a dozen vehicles, prompting murmurs even within political corridors.

There is little dispute that the UP Chief Minister faces serious security threats from extremist elements and is entitled to Z-plus category protection. Security agencies, officials insist, determine the scale of such arrangements. Yet, comparisons inevitably surfaced because the Prime Minister himself is often seen traveling in the Capital with a far leaner convoy.

The optics, therefore, became difficult to ignore. In a political climate where symbolism matters as much as substance, critics and even some admirers wondered whether the message of restraint could have been better reflected on the road as well. For many observers, it was less about security protocol and more about political messaging.

Keeping out of public glare

Even as the Indian economy navigates a difficult phase marked by stubborn inflation, pressure on the rupee and slowing consumption, Finance Minister Nirmala Sitharaman has noticeably withdrawn from the public spotlight. Unlike many of her predecessors who preferred aggressive public messaging during economic turbulence, Sitharaman has chosen silence and caution.

Critics argue that her political standing and public approval have come under increasing scrutiny in recent months. Rising prices, stress among small businesses and concerns over weakening household savings have provided the Opposition enough ammunition to target the Finance Ministry.

Yet, her supporters insist that the broader macroeconomic picture remains stable compared to many global economies battling similar headwinds. They point to India’s growth trajectory, strong tax collections, infrastructure push and fiscal discipline remain on a relatively firm footing despite global uncertainty. Sitharaman, however, has never been a politician known for grandstanding. Having held the finance portfolio for nearly eight years — a rare feat in itself — she has developed a reputation for speaking only when necessary and avoiding needless controversies. Unlike several senior ministers, she rarely courts media attention, grants very few interviews outside the Union Budget period and prefers institutional communication over personal projection.

Sources in government circles say the Prime Minister’s Office closely monitors economic messaging, leaving Sitharaman comfortable with allowing “South Block to do the talking.” Now, as economic anxieties deepen, the Finance Minister appears to have retreated even further into a carefully guarded shell.

by Harish Gupta, National Editor, Lokmat Group

Fly on the wall

Harish Gupta

Modi-Shah Eye the Last Frontier Now

For the Bharatiya Janata Party, Punjab has long remained the final political fortress it could never conquer on its own. But with the 2027 Assembly election now firmly on the radar, the Narendra Modi–Amit Shah combine has begun crafting an aggressive multi-layered strategy to crack the border state — politically, socially and psychologically.

The BJP believes the ruling Aam Aadmi Party government under Chief Minister Bhagwant Mann is increasingly vulnerable. The recent twin low-intensity blasts near the Army cantonment boundary wall in Amritsar’s Khasa and outside the BSF Punjab Frontier headquarters in Jalandhar handed the BJP a potent national security narrative. Punjab DGP Gaurav Yadav’s observation that Pakistan’s ISI could be linked to the incidents allowed the BJP to sharpen its attack, projecting the Mann government as weak on security in a sensitive border state where Khalistani elements are once again attempting to regroup.

Privately, BJP strategists argue that Punjab’s electorate is growing uneasy over what they describe as “administrative drift” under the AAP regime. The Opposition’s allegations about Mann allegedly arriving drunk at an official function have further fueled the perception battle around the chief minister’s image.

But the BJP’s biggest weapon may well be its political engineering. The party has quietly built a formidable network of imported heavyweights. Punjab BJP chief Sunil Jakhar came from the Congress. Union Minister Ravneet Singh Bittu crossed over from the Congress. Former chief minister Capt Amarinder Singh is already in the saffron camp. Now, the dramatic defection of Raghav Chadha and six AAP Rajya Sabha MPs to the BJP has injected fresh momentum into the party’s expansion plans.

The message from Delhi is unmistakable: Punjab is no longer being treated as an impossible state. After Bengal, the BJP now wants its next great breakthrough in the nation’s volatile border belt.

What's common between Suvendu and Sarma

For decades, India’s opposition parties perfected one political art: promoting bloodlines over battlefield commanders. The BJP, meanwhile, perfected the opposite—spotting ambitious regional warhorses abandoned by dynastic courts and turning them into chief ministers. That is the common thread binding Suvendu Adhikari and Himanta Biswa Sarma.

Adhikari was not merely another Trinamool functionary. He was the architect of Nandigram, the mass mobiliser who helped catapult Mamata Banerjee from street fighter to Bengal’s undisputed ruler. For years, he was seen as the natural political heir. But the succession script changed when the party pivoted toward Abhishek Banerjee, the nephew waiting in the wings. Adhikari walked out in 2020, joined the BJP, and became not merely as Leader of Opposition, but the saffron camp’s King of Bengal.

The Assam story is eerily similar. Sarma spent 25 years building the Congress in the Northeast brick by brick. Yet when succession politics surfaced, the establishment appeared more comfortable backing Gaurav Gogoi, son of former CM Tarun Gogoi. Sarma crossed over to the BJP in 2015. Today, he is not just Assam’s dominant leader but the BJP’s principal strategist across the Northeast.

The lesson is brutal. Parties weakened by a dynasty often lose their most effective generals. The BJP’s rise is not explained only by electoral machinery or aggressive campaigning. Its real long game lies in identifying leaders discarded by family-run parties, rewarding ambition over inheritance, and converting political resentment into raw electoral power.

Nitish also Crowns His Prince

For years, Nitish Kumar built his political brand around two claims — clean governance and uncompromising opposition to dynastic politics. With the elevation of his son Nishant Kumar as health minister in the Samrat Choudhary-led Bihar government, that carefully cultivated moral high ground has come crashing down.

The symbolism was impossible to miss. Nishant, who joined the JD(U) barely a month ago and has never fought an election, walked straight into ministerial office after touching his father’s feet on stage. No years in the organisational trenches. No electoral baptism. No legislative experience. Just lineage.

For decades, Nitish attacked Lalu Prasad Yadav for turning politics into a family enterprise — first installing Rabri Devi as chief minister and then promoting sons like Tejashwi Yadav. Today, Nitish stands accused of embracing precisely the culture he once denounced.

The BJP’s silence has been equally revealing. Prime Minister Narendra Modi routinely attacks “parivarvaad” as a danger to democracy, yet the saffron camp looked the other way when its ally inducted a political novice solely because he carried the right surname. The official explanation — that allies are free to choose their ministers — sounded less like principle and more like political convenience. The irony is devastating: the man who spent decades attacking the dynasty has ultimately surrendered to it.

What Next for the Trinamool?

What lies ahead for the TMC is the million-dollar question. One thing, however, is beyond doubt: Mamata Banerjee is a street-fighter, a leader who thrives on direct confrontation. She is unlikely to allow the BJP to govern West Bengal without resistance. Unlike Odisha, where the BJP faces little push back, Bengal promises to remain a battleground, with Banerjee personally taking on the government.

Yet, time is not on her side. Her decision to project her nephew, Abhishek Banerjee, as heir apparent has not inspired the same mass appeal that she commands. That gap raises questions about succession and party cohesion.

Rumours during the election of around 15 Trinamool MPs being in touch with the BJP — including some from the Rajya Sabha — were dismissed by the party as psychological warfare. But could such speculation acquire substance now? Bengal’s political history offers clues. While Left cadres rarely defected, Congress leaders often switched sides. The Trinamool itself is largely built on that Congress legacy — leaders accustomed to being in power.

If the perception grows that the BJP is entrenched in Bengal for the long haul, defections cannot be ruled out. With 29 MPs, the Trinamool remains a significant bloc — and a potential target. Don’t be surprised if “Operation Lotus” quietly gathers pace in the state, especially beyond minority-dominated constituencies.

by Harish Gupta, National Editor, Lokmat Group

Fly on the wall

Harish Gupta

When Sonia Gandhi Vetoed Rahul

In the shadowy corridors of Indian National Congress, the Tamil Nadu puzzle had begun to look less like strategy and more like a family writ. Rahul Gandhi, restless and impatient, was quietly flirting with a political gamble—ditching the old warhorse Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam and exploring a bold alignment with Tamilaga Vettri Kazhagam (TVK) fronted by actor-turned-politician Vijay.

Signals were subtle but unmistakable. Rahul’s public defence of Vijay over censorship controversies in early January this year was no casual gesture—it was a political wink. Congress insiders whispered of back channel talks, of emissaries testing the waters, of a new southern script being drafted. The state unit, weary of playing second fiddle to the DMK, wasn’t entirely opposed either.

But the DMK wasn’t taking chances. A visibly concerned senior leader Kanimozhi made a quiet dash to Delhi, landing at 10 Janpath on a cold January evening. The message was blunt: don’t rock the boat. Yet, Rahul held his ground. The stalemate deepened, and Tamil Nadu’s alliance arithmetic teetered on collapse.

Enter Sonia Gandhi. On March 3, the Congress matriarch stepped in with characteristic finality. Calls were made, lines were drawn, and a direct channel was opened with M. K. Stalin. The message was clear—there would be no adventurism. The DMK alliance would hold. Rahul’s experiment was over before it began. Reluctantly, the party fell in line. Seat-sharing was stitched up, the façade of unity restored. It's a different matter that Rahul Gandhi did not address any joint rallies and maintained distance.

But politics has a cruel sense of timing. As results trickled in, murmurs grew louder—had Rahul seen what others missed? TVK’s rise hinted at a shifting ground reality, one the Congress chose not to ride. For now, discipline trumped instinct. Rahul deferred. Sonia decided. And somewhere in Tamil Nadu, a missed opportunity quietly lingered.

A Midnight Operation: How Amit Shah Breached the Kejriwal Fortress

For years, the Aam Aadmi Party’s compact but combative Rajya Sabha bloc of ten MPs punched far above its weight, needling the National Democratic Alliance at every turn. Even when Swati Maliwal broke ranks, the fortress held—cracks visible, but no collapse.

Then came the moment that changed the script. As Raghav Chadha—once the blue-eyed strategist of Arvind Kejriwal—lost his footing within the party, the tremors began. Whispers turned into quiet huddles; disquiet found a direction. Delhi’s political grapevine sensed movement before the headlines did.

What followed had all the elements of a classic capital intrigue. On a humid Delhi night, well past the hour of routine political activity, seven AAP MPs slipped into Amit Shah’s residence for a close-door meeting that insiders now describe as decisive. It wasn’t just a courtesy call. Shah, in his trademark clinical style, is learnt to have laid out a hard political brief—Punjab’s stalled governance, the patchy rollout of central schemes, and the shrinking space for relevance within AAP.

By the time the meeting broke, sometime close to midnight, the die was cast. Numbers, as always in Delhi, proved more decisive than noise. With over two-thirds of the bloc ready to walk, the anti-defection law turned from a barrier into a bridge.

The Kejriwal fortress didn’t fall with a bang—it was quietly unlocked from within. In the capital’s shadowy power game, this was less a rebellion and more a midnight extraction—swift, silent, and devastatingly effective.

New CDS: The Guessing Game Intensifies

As the war in West Asia dominates strategic conversations, a quieter but equally intense churn is underway within India’s military establishment: who will be the next Chief of Defence Staff? With General Anil Chauhan’s extended tenure ending on May 30, 2026, the race has entered a decisive phase—though officially, the field remains wide open.

The timing adds intrigue. Army chief General Upendra Dwivedi and Navy chief Admiral Dinesh K. Tripathi are both set to retire within months, placing them in contention. Predictably, lobbying has picked up, with each service keenly watching how the balance of power may shift.

Yet, the buzz in Delhi’s security circles suggests the outcome may not rest solely within the services. National Security Adviser Ajit Doval is widely seen as a key influence in such appointments. His military adviser, Lt Gen. S. Raja Subramani, has emerged as a serious contender—mirroring Chauhan’s own trajectory from the same role to CDS. Both Chauhan and India’s first CDS, the late General Bipin Rawat, were considered close to Doval’s strategic worldview.

However, another appointment of a retired Army general could trigger disquiet within the Navy and Air Force, which have long argued against the Army’s institutional dominance. The CDS post, after all, was conceived to foster jointness and integration across services.

With eligibility norms now widened to include serving and retired three-star officers, the government has flexibility. The real test will be whether it uses that leeway to reinforce balance—or continuity.

by Harish Gupta, National Editor, Lokmat Group

Fly on the Wall

Harish Gupta

Spy vs Spy: Delhi’s Surveillance Politics Explodes

In geopolitics, lessons travel fast. Ever since reports surfaced that Israeli intelligence agencies tracked and eliminated top Iranian leadership by mapping vehicle movements, a quiet paranoia has gripped power corridors in Delhi. Suddenly, CCTV cameras are no longer just about traffic violations or street crime—they are potential instruments of political intelligence. In the Capital, this unease has snowballed into a full-blown surveillance slugfest between Aam Aadmi Party and BJP.

What began as a flagship public safety project under Arvind Kejriwal—with lakhs of cameras blanketing the city—is now being systematically dismantled. The BJP, now calling the shots, has ordered a sweeping reset: scrap the old network, float fresh tenders, bring in new spy machines. The official trigger? Security concerns over Chinese-origin equipment, especially from Hikvision. In an era of heightened cyber anxieties, the argument has some weight. But scratch the surface, and a more political story emerges. The BJP’s unease is blunt: a surveillance grid built, controlled, and calibrated under AAP could double up as a political listening post. Why inherit a system you don’t trust?

The AAP's counter-charge is equally sharp—that the BJP wants its own digital eyes and ears, a tailor-made network to watch rivals, not just wrongdoers. The numbers tell their own story. Nearly 1.4 lakh cameras—many installed between 2020 and 2022—are being ripped out. This isn’t maintenance; it’s demolition with intent. The larger question, then, is not just about Chinese hardware or public safety. In Delhi, the CCTV is no longer just a camera on the wall. It’s a lens into power, paranoia, and the politics of who watches whom.

Priyanka Chaturvedi at the Crossroads

Is Priyanka Chaturvedi scripting a comeback via the Lok Sabha, or angling for another Rajya Sabha innings? With her Upper House term from Shiv Sena (UBT) over, the chatter in political corridors is getting louder—and juicier. The buzz has a clear geographical anchor: Mathura. It’s not just sentiment. Chaturvedi hails from here and her recent visit has set tongues wagging. The seat is currently held by Hema Malini, but by 2029, age could redraw the BJP’s calculus, opening a tempting window.

But the real intrigue lies in the party tag. Will she stay loyal, switch sides, or hedge her bets? Signals are mixed. One track suggests a Rajya Sabha re-entry with possible backing from the Samajwadi Party, which is eyeing gains in the upcoming Uttar Pradesh RS polls. With numbers on its side, the SP could bag multiple seats—but not without resistance from the BJP.

Yet, there’s a twist. Akhilesh Yadav is reportedly more keen to test her electoral heft in Mathura than park her in the Rajya Sabha. Back channel voices may prefer a safe RS berth, but the SP chief seems to favour a riskier, high-reward Lok Sabha gamble.

Meanwhile, equations with her current party remain less than warm. From flirting with a saffron switch to exploring the UP route, every option is on the table. One thing is clear: her next move could be less about loyalty—and more about survival and ambition.

Price Tag Politics: How Much for Power?

A 19-minute “sting” clip has detonated like a political landmine in West Bengal. Released by the Trinamool Congress, it alleges that Humayun Kabir of the Aam Janata Unnayan Party struck a staggering ₹1,000 crore deal with the BJP to split minority votes in Murshidabad and Malda ahead of the 2026 Assembly polls. Kabir first dismissed it as AI fakery, then conceded the clip was real—only “edited & incomplete.” The BJP has waved it off as theatrics. Truth, as always, sits somewhere behind the noise, waiting.

But the deeper tremor comes from an unlikely quarter. Birendra Singh who was in the first Modi Cabinet for five years, has cut through the fog with a blunt observation: a leader “worth” ₹20 crore is pushed into delirium when the BJP pays Rs 50 crore.

What does this moment reveal? Not just the presence of money power—that is old news—but its breathtaking scale and normalization. Elections are no longer merely contests of ideology or identity; they risk becoming high-stakes financial markets where loyalties are traded, constituencies are segmented, and outcomes are engineered with capital.

The alleged ₹1,000 crore figure, whether proven or not, is symbolic. It signals a shift—from retail corruption to wholesale political investment. In such a marketplace, voters are reduced to data points, and democracy to a negotiable instrument. The last word on this controversy may still be unwritten. But one question now demands an answer: when the price of power keeps rising, who—or what—gets sold first?

The Reluctant Warrior

Assembly elections are underway in two major states—West Bengal and Tamil Nadu. Polling for 152 seats in Bengal and all 234 seats in Tamil Nadu is scheduled for April 23. PM Modi has unleashed an aggressive campaign blitz. Home Minister Amit Shah has announced a 15-day ground push in Bengal.

In sharp contrast, Rahul Gandhi has largely stayed away from Tamil Nadu campaigning so far. He has not been particularly visible in Bengal either.  He is finally visited West Bengal on Tuestday, April 14 and may visit one more time. But along with Priyanka Gandhi Vadra, his focus has remained on Kerala, Puducherry and Assam—even there, without matching Modi’s intensity. The BJP, despite modest prospects in Kerala, Tamil Nadu and Puducherry, the party has mounted a full-scale effort.

Congress, however, seems to be going through the motions. Though it is contesting more seats in TN in alliance with the DMK, its top leadership’s late push looks largely symbolic. In Bengal, where it is contesting widely after decades, expectations remain modest despite pockets of hope in Murshidabad and Malda.